


Another Year Down Low

by MystxMomo



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Late to Komaeda's Birthday like a Champ, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MystxMomo/pseuds/MystxMomo
Summary: “So… Happy birthday, Nagito,” Hinata is rubbing the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly, looking at his plate of food as though it will personally take him out of his misery. And then.. Komaeda stares blankly at him, fingers stalling along the indentation of the lettering on the novel’s cover. Just staring. Just barely registering.“Ah... What?” Is all he manages to slip out.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 10
Kudos: 231





	Another Year Down Low

**Author's Note:**

> I AM LATE TO NAGITO KOMAEDAS BIRTHDAY. I APOLOGIZE. BUT STILL HAVE WHAT I WORDED.

**1.**

Their cabins don't have a kitchen, technically. 

Too much of a fire hazard, not enough room. They manage, generally, just getting up to make their food in the hotel kitchen. 

However, at some point Hinata had moved a minifridge into their room, and Komaeda had dug out a hotplate, and they’d gathered a small collection of pots and pans that they needed to wash in the bathroom when they used them.

"Ease of access," Hinata had told him, blunt, in the stark monotone he used on them when he was only sort of half paying attention to way he was saying. When he was trying  _ very _ hard to separate  _ friend _ from doctor, “You need to eat more.”

Komaeda had wrinkled his nose at the time, stared at Hinata with a sort of bitter glare he hadn’t even given  _ his _ doctors. But even he couldn’t deny that it had tempted him into eating on more than one occasion.

(He wasn't use to feeling so hungry, was the thing. He wasn’t use to needing to eat so often.)

He watches Hinata work, cutting through wild garlic and tomato pieces with the skill of a Master Chef. The hotpan is on the floor, so Hinata need’s to sit cross legged to work. The angle seems awkward, unhelped by the fact that Komaeda has taken to leaning on him. 

But he makes it work.

"You don't have to watch," Hinata mumbles, half hearted, not stalling his work for a moment. If it had been anyone else, Komaeda might have pulled back. But it’s Hinata, specifically Hinata, so he curls up tighter against him and thumbs with the dog eared page of his long forgotten book instead.

"Mm... I like watching," Komaeda could assure him of that. Watching anyone utilize their talent was a privilege Komaeda had always longed to see, but there was something about the way Hinata specifically worked that enthralled him. Like he was watching a machine work through preprogrammed motions. It’s fascinating, not only from a talent perspective, but from a  _ Hinata _ perspective. 

Hinata has, afterall, always been fascinating to him.

“You’re getting in the way,” Hinata corrects, furrows his brows. Komaeda responds by slipping a piece of diced tomato into his mouth, “Alright, smartass.”

This is normally the part where Hinata would just nudge him aside to make working easier, and Komaeda would instead watch him work from an undisturbed distance. That was fine. It was expected. Komaeda knew when he was provoking, and really, if he were sincerely bothered by it he would…  _ probably _ mention it. 

Hinata does not, however, push him away. Instead, he just sort of… sighs. Shifts to adjust for the added weight, which was not the reaction he was looking for or 

“Spicy, or sweet?” Hinata asks, nodding to the mess of peppers sitting just out of reach.

“Uh.. Spicy.”

Hinata reaches over to grab the peppers with one hand, and Komaeda loosens his grip.

“Come on,” Hinata finally shifts away entirely, “We have to let it sit for a few hours.”

“Ah.. Of course.”

**2.**

Now, this interaction wouldn’t have been odd on it’s own. Hinata Hajime was a well loved mystery novel, something he explored time and time again and still found new details to admire. It was just that.. He’d been like this all day. 

If Komaeda went to bed alone, he had a tendency to find Hinata asleep with him in the morning. If he went to bed with Hinata there, then generally he was gone in the morning. It was a ritualistic pattern that had become a familiarity. A comfort. Hinata was busy, perhaps too busy at times, but he always made time to lay with him at night. Even if just for a few hours.

He had fallen asleep with him, last night. He’d woken up with him this morning. Hinata had slept in with him, well past noon. Komaeda had woken up in an entanglement of limbs and blankets, skin to skin, warm breath against his neck.

“You don’t have anything to do today?” Komaeda had asked, as he’d watched Hinata shift lazily into the first pair of jeans he’d found on the floor.

“Uh.. No?” Hinata sounds amused by the prospect, “Not unless you had something in mind?”

Komaeda’s brows had furrowed down at the remark. 

… Was he forgetting something? Surely not. If they’d had something planned, Hinata would have mentioned it by now. If they’d had something planned, 

So Komaeda.. Had let it go.

They’d spent most of the day in their cabin, is the other thing.

Hinata had reached over to shift open a window, letting the breeze in. 

“Good weather,” He remarked, like it was suppose to be some kind of general musing. 

“As good as any other day,” Komaeda had replied, making room for Hinata to sit back against him. He seems unsure of what to do with himself. Normally attempts to keep busy, always attempts to find something to do with his hands.

“You’re sure you don’t want to like..  _ Do _ anything?” Hinata had asked, for what had to be the third time that morning, “I’m sure we could find something interesting?”

Komaeda had raised an eyebrow at him. 

“A date,” Hinata had offered.

And well. It wasn’t that he didn’t like going on dates with Hinata. Really, any amount of time or focus Hinata was willing to give him was always something that amazed him. Even to this day. It’s just, Spontaneity had just never been his style. Komaeda needed at least a day's warning, some amount of time to prepare before they went to do something.

Was that what this was about? Was he uncertain of how much time they’d spent together recently? Hinata did have a tendency to overthink things. It was something he couldn’t help, he supposed.

“Hinata-kun,” He thought of how to word his reply carefully, “I am perfectly content spending the day here with you.”

Hinata had taken a moment to observe him. Then had only sighed, and fallen back into place next to him.

“If you say so.

  
  
  
  


**3.**

Now, Hinata giving people gifts isn’t rare, per-say.

Really, Komaeda has come to accept that this is just how he was. Sometimes he’d wander in, slide over a shell he’d found at the beach or a blue ram he’d managed to convince Naegi to send their way. He always seemed delighted, for as much as Hinata could be these days, at his gifts being taken well.

He doesn’t know if Hinata realizes this. He’s always been like this. Even in the simulation, he’d start off a lot of their introductions by sliding a gift Komaeda’s way. 

And it wasn't that he didn’t appreciate it. Truely, he did.

But this was.. A lot. Presentation wise.

Hinata hands him the gift over their dinner, when they’re sitting with their legs intertwined. Across from one another. Komaeda run’s his fingers along the edge of the gift, admiring the way it’s been near perfectly wrapped. The wrapping paper is metallic. Silver. Pretty. The sort of paper that morphs his reflection to something unreadable, topped off with a red cloth bow.

“We dug the wrapping paper out of the warehouse,” Hinata admits, “It was just kind of nice timing. I thought you’d like it.”

He does. He spends the time to pull it apart cautiously, plucking off the pieces of tape in methodic, careful motions. As to avoid causing any rips or tears in the paper. Hinata seems… amused by this, but is polite enough not to say anything.

“Oh, it’s-” 

A book. Damaged by fire along the edges, water on the cover. But a book, hard cover, gold trimmed. When he flips through the pages, he realizes it’s poetry. Inked black and white sketches line the columns, framing the words and bleeding onto the edges.

Komaeda has always liked poetry. He’s told Hinata as much, probably more times than he actually remembers. 

“It’s not much,” Hinata seems embarrassed, “But Naegi picked it up on one of their outings. Well- They picked up uh. Multiple copies. And it’s not in the best condition, because Future Foundation wanted to keep the ones in better condition. I tried to restore it as best as I could but we don’t have the best equipment on the island. You know,” He doesn’t know, “Most of the poems are by the Ultimate Poet, on top of that.

He’s doing that thing he does when he’s nervous. Where he fumbles over himself. Overexplains. Komaeda sort of just.. Allows it to happen, as he tends to, watching along in bemused silence. 

And it’s nice and all, except… He cannot figure out why.

If it was to see the poems, surely a scans would be easier? If it was about the book, why go through the trouble of restoring it? Komaeda stares down at it in wonder. Hinata answers his question for him.

“So… Happy birthday, Nagito,” Hinata is rubbing the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly, looking at his plate of food as though it will personally take him out of his misery. And then.. Komaeda stares blankly at him, fingers stalling along the indentation of the lettering on the novel’s cover. Just staring. Just barely registering. 

“Ah... What?” Is all he manages to slip out.

**4.**

“Happy… birthday?”

They’re silent. 

Komaeda…. Tilts his head.

“Ah?”

It... made sense, he realizes. The  _ focus _ on him, the dinner, the… gift…

Komaeda laughs. It feels underwhelming for a realization as grand as this, “Oh!” He says, hides his face, “I see!”

“... Komaeda,” Hinata does not seem to want to will the words into existence, “Did you- Not realize.” 

“Of course I-” He looks down at his hand, metal, realizes too late he’s balled it into a fist, curled it against the cover. He stops speaking. He’s not foolish enough to think Hinata will believe such a bold lie. Isn’t foolish enough to try and trick him. But the need to be defensive is ingrained, and automatic, and he grits his teeth together until a smile is forced onto his face.

“I might need a moment,” Komaeda says, politely, and holds the book tighter to his chest.

“Fuck- You’re crying,” Hinata never seems to know how to handle him when he cries. Even after all this time, he stumbles over himself at the sight of it. And after all this time, Komaeda isn’t quite sure how to assure him that really, it’s fine. It’s not  _ him _ , he’s just like this. And Komaeda doesn’t want to inconvenience him, doesn’t want to make him feel horrid, not after all of this. He doesn’t want to ruin this.

So instead, Komaeda stands up.

Komaeda stands up quickly. 

Komaeda stands up quickly, remembers he’s anemic, and collapses upon facing an immediate and powerful spell of vertigo, proceeding to crack his head against the edge of the coffee table as he falls.

What bitter, rotten luck, he thinks. 

“Nagito?!”

**5.**

Komaeda doesn’t like his birthdays, is the thing. 

He distinctly remembers being 17, and standing on the edge of the roof of Hopes Peak. It had been a particularly horrible day. He couldn’t tell you now what had happened. Something to do with his luck cycle. With his incompetence. He stares down at the down at the ground and wills the wind to take him, unable to jump himself, but unable to resist it’s call.

A girl with pigtails walked onto the roof.

Their eyes meet, and she smiles at him. It’s supposed to be comforting.

He’d immediately seen the malice in that smile.

He admits this to Hinata while the other fusses over him. Holds the book in his hand with a grip tight enough to white his knuckles, with his fingers pressing a cloth to his busted lip, “It was my birthday,” He tells him, blankly, “I’ve always had such awful luck on my birthday. Perhaps the Universe wants to remind me of my own inherent atrocity?” 

Hinata glances away. Hand draws back from the cut he’d been working on bandaging, “I don’t think it had anything to do with your birthday,” He says, carefully, “She would have gotten to you eventually anyway, right?”

“... Perhaps,” There are just some thing’s Komaeda will never be able to reject. Hinata at least humors him on his luck cycle, believes him if he stretches it. But he will never understand the lengths the universe will go to ruin him.

He lets go of the book, and laces his fingers between Hinata’s instead. 

They don’t talk about it beyond that. They don’t need to. Komaeda is happier now. Though happiness is fleeting, and momentary, he accepts it with the hesitance of a man that’s been poisoned more then once. That knows he will be poisoned again.

He closes his eyes, and sinks into the silence.

“...You know, I should have figured you didn’t realize.”

“Mm?”

Hinata isn’t smiling, exactly, when he glances over at him. But he is staring down at Komaeda’s hand with a look of intense thought, eyes narrowed and fingers twitching 

“Last year you spent the your entire birthday on the verge of a break down because you were  _ that _ certain that someone was going to die,” Hinata says this in perhaps too serious of a tone, like this is some momentous thought that requires the upmost care to present. He doesn’t see why. That certainly sounds like something he’d do, “You’ve been weirdly calm all day.”

Komaeda tries not to laugh. He fails at not laughing.

“Though it was sort of nice. Seeing you so relaxed all day,” 

“Perhaps that was the good luck…” Komaeda mumbles, “And forgetting was the bad?”

Hinata presses down harder on the bandage, “Don’t think too hard on it.”

**6.**

They’re sitting together at the edge of the bath, watching it fill. Hinata reaches over to disconnect the prosthetic off his arm for him. Not because he  _ needs _ the help, per-say. What an inconvenience that would be. But rather because Hinata simply seems to want to, and Komaeda likes any moment Hinata is touching him. 

“I suppose I wasn’t the only one who forgot about my birthday this year,” Komaeda laughs. He’s not bothered by it. He never is, really. But there’s still something about being forgotten that has such an ugly taste of nostalgia to it.

“Ah. Well, ” Hinata looks away. Seems guilty, “Not really.”

“... Ah?”

“... They wanted to do something big for you this year,” Hinata admits, “Sort of like they did last year,” He stalls. Komaeda, of course, remembers the party well. Mioda had been almost too excited to get him on stage. Souda had managed to get not one, but two slices thrown at his face. Owari had eaten half his plate, which was fine. He hadn’t wanted it. 

They’d meant well. But it had still been overwhelming, perhaps too much. He never had been one for crowds. 

Hinata runs his hand though his hair, seems  _ nervous _ . Komaeda almost wonders if he’s putting on a display for him, “I told them not to bother. That I wanted to spend the day alone with you.” Ah. That’s what that was about, “... Is that selfish?”

“Not at all,” Komaeda’s answer is immediate, “Spending time with Hinata-kun is always a gift.”

Hinata relaxes nearly as soon as the answer comes out of his mouth. Snorts, “Okay. Sure. Cheesy, but sure,” Hinata is blushing, despite this.

Komaeda reaches over to feel the temperature of the bath. Burns him. As he prefers it. 

“... And ah,” Komaeda tilts his head back in thought, “They will do something anyway.”

“Probably.”

The security in the confidence of that was overwhelming. Komaeda, carefully, does not smile down at the water.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me literally anywhere I am at Mystxmomo. But Specifically on tumblr. Because I'm one of the cool kids now.


End file.
